To Live
by PhlegmaticLenna
Summary: Mere weeks after the defeat of Voldemort, a PTS Hermione Granger commits suicide. In his devastation, Harry decides he can't live without her. Through use of a mad man's methods, he returns to first year, determined to this time create a world she'll be happy to live in.
1. Chapter 1: The Reason

It came as a shock to everyone, even though everyone should have seen it coming. A few weeks after the battle of Hogwarts, when everything was finally starting to calm down, Hermione had some sort of breakdown. During lunch, just three friends out, no mourning, no planning, no anything, she had started to cry. Not pretty, gentle crying - uncontrollable shaking, sobbing, a red-faced mess of tears and snot whose legs didn't seem able to support itself. Harry and Ron had to rush her out of the restuarante. She sat with them in the for over an hour, unable to speak, until she finally calmed down. For Harry, it was terrifying. He had no idea how to comfort her, no idea what was wrong. Later, he wished he had taken her in his arms and held her, tightly, and not spoken a word. Instead, he asked repeated what was wrong, hands hovering near her shoulders or nervously through his own hair. Ron seemed embarrassed and confused, but at least he kept his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently until the episode passed.

It happened a few more times after that. Hermione refused to go out in public, but stayed in her room, alone. Ron left for Australia in search of her parents, hoping they might help. Harry spent nearly every moment at the table downstairs, fretful and jumpy, not able to read, work, do anything. Not able to work up the courage to be with her. He brought her food, she didn't eat it, and he took it away, all in overbearing silence that made him feel like an intruder.

She was jumpy too, nervous and unhappy, then suddenly strangely calm and at peace, but distant, drained.

And one day he came up with her breakfast to find her dead.

There wasn't a lot of explanation. Just a long apology, written in neat lines on a piece of scrap paper, left on the floor. She couldn't cope with the deaths of others, she'd said, and hated herself for doing 'this' to the people she loved. But she could not bear living anymore. She'd gone out the Muggle way - no potions, no spells, just a length of rope, the ceiling fan, and a folding chair.

When he saw her body, he'd broken down too, just the way she had in that restuarante. He'd dropped the food and tea he'd taken her on the floor, shattering the cup, falling on his hands and knees. He didn't cry at that moment, just lost his breath. Then he was all movement, all hope she might not be dead yet, call an ambulance, call Ron, call Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny and everyone, don't take the time to even tell them what's wrong, take the noose from her neck, lay her down, healing spells on her corpse.

It was several months later now. Just as he'd initially expected, she was very much dead and not coming back. He'd been speaking to Muggle psychiatrist, trying to make sense of it. The man always wanted Harry to talk about what he felt, but Harry mostly just asked questions and the psychiatrist did his best to reply.

"Some people..." The man said, trying to very gentle, "Just can't cope. So they take what they see as the easy way out."

"But what couldn't she cope with? Why?" Harry asked.

It took him two months to feel he knew why.

He would not live without her. That was certain, he would not live without her. In a matter of seven months, he researched enough into the works of Cult Quo to attempt an extremely complicated ritual with the goal of traveling back in time. Mr. Cult Quo and all his diciples had dissappeared after these rituals, they believed: to another world, identical to this one, but earlier, newer. Others believed: to dust.

Maybe it wouldn't work. In fact, it likely wouldn't work. Almost definitely wouldn't work. Had anyone else been allowed to find out about what he was doing, they'd say it surely would not work and please see your psychiatrist again. Harry was ready for the outcome, one way or another. He would not live without her.

As soon as the ritual started, he knew it worked. He did not have time to celebrate or even think, there was an imediate, searing pain and the madness of thousands of images flashing before his eyes, thousands of voices and sounds. Himself, his friends, the ghostly faces of his parents, images of happy places, the school, the Burrow, the air. Hermione, mostly, because his mind kept straying to her. After a while, he started to lose his sight. The images started going white, started going blurry. The sounds became muffled and quiet. And he was tired, oh so tired. Where was he going? A single voice rang out again, this time clear as day, calling his name.

"Harry! Wake up, you little freak!" Screeched his Aunt Petunia, not a voice he was normally fond of hearing. Today, he jumped out of bed with a huge smile, hitting his head on the underside of the stairs in his enthusiasm. He looked around. Strange, it was both dark and blurry. He reached beside him and put his glasses on, then poked his head outside the door.

Yes, the hallway was most certainly familiar. He was back in Privet Drive, back under the stairs. He scurried out of the cupboard and into the kitchen. Bare feet on linoleum, the sensation of being alive. He'd left those in his world thinking he was dead. That was cruel. But for knowing that, Harry still could not bring himself to feel guilt or anything other than absolute elation. Because he wasn't the only one who was alive. Hermione was too.

He cooked breakfast at break neck speed. He hadn't known when he'd come back, could only estimate. He certainly felt young.

"Bah! More letters!" Cried his uncle.

More letters? Harry spied around the corner. Yes, they were from Hogwarts, they were the letters he'd been denied until his birthday. So he was ten, almost eleven, and not yet aware of magic in any capacity.

He had no wand and seven years of Hogwarts had not very well enlightened him on wandless magic. He was capable of Apparation. He could apparate right to Gringotts bank.

Harry wouldn't do anything without thinking it over first. If he dissappeared, he would be missed - there were chores to be done, there was Arabella Figg watching the house. If he dissappeared to Diagon Alley, he would instantly expose himself as not an ordinary child. He likely would not be able to return here and would be on his own. He could stay here, wait until he eventually met Hagrid, progress through life keeping himself secret. Would be sneaky or would be brave?

The place certainly held no fond memories for him. On the other hand, he would endure any suffering to meet his goal - he would create a world where none of Hermione's friends ever died, where she never met battle, where nothing happened that she might break. Voldemort would have to be killed in a far less grandiose manner than last time around.


	2. Chapter 2: The Meeting

Hermione was muggle-born, muggle-educated, just as Harry had been, but in her first year had come to Hogwarts with far more knowledge of the magical world than he had. Harry remembered this was a result of the interference of Professor McGonagal, who introduced muggle-borns and their families to the magical world. He did wonder just how he'd slipped through the cracks. The Order were clearly aware of him enough to pay Mrs. Figg to watch him full-time.

With paper and pencil nicked from Dudley's school supplies, Harry penned a quick letter to Professor McGonagall, who sent the acceptance letters to students each summer. It would be best to remain covert, and pretending at muggle knowledge gave him an in to be close to Hermione. He wasn't all right with watching over her from the shadows. He remembered very clearly - Ron and Hermione had been his only close friends, just as he and Ron were her only. He would not deprive Hermione of any friend, least of all himself.

His letter was polite, yet sceptical, hopefully appearing to be written by someone intelligent but entirely muggle. But how long would be need to wait for a reply? The Dursleys' was a terrible household. Being an adult, he was much more aware that home wasn't forever. He found happiness at school. He could bear the rest of the summer, most likely.

The very morning after he sent his letter, Professor McGonagal showed up at the Dursley doorstep. Harry very much wished he had been the one to let her in, but his Aunt Petunia was much nearer the door.

The moment Aunt Petunia opened the door and saw the professor, she began shutting it. McGonagal was quicker.

"Mrs. Dursley? I'd like a quick word, if you don't mind." His professor said, tighly holding the side of the door in her wrinkled hands.

"We're not interested. Please be on your way." His Aunt, attempting to physically muscle the door shut. It could be worse, Harry supposed. It could be Uncle Vernon answering the door.

Harry peeked his head around his aunt. There was no need for acting, he was very excited to see his professor, to see any hint of magic.

The professor quirked her eyebrows at him. Was she perturbed by his ill-fitting clothing? In the previous run-through, she had only rarely seen him out of uniform and only learned about his poor home-situation much too late.

While she must have seen his scar, she still asked, "And this is Harry?"

Aunt Petunia was surprised that Harry was right by her side, she turned to look at him, and in that quick moment, Professor McGonagal was able to win the battle of the door and push inside.

"As I said, we're not interested. Who do you think you are, barging into our home?" Aunt Petunia shrilled.

"I am Professor McGonagal, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm sure you would have heard of me, as I am the one to write the original letter I hear you have been inundated with? It's very good luck Harry was able to get ahold of one, they'd keep coming in greater and greater numbers until he did. A rather archaic spell, much like modern spam. Now I must confirm something, Mrs. Dursley. Have you and your husband neglected to tell Harry about his magical heiritage?"

Aunt Petunia sneered, "We don't want any of your freakishness in our home. This is a normal house."

Professor McGonagal was not known for mildness, but seemed to be holding her temper remarkably well. "Whatever it is for you, magic is perfectly natural for your nephew. Would you have him go his whole life never knowing of what he is capable? In any case, I don't have time to argue. Due to this oversight, Harry has not recieved his invitation to the Muggle-born introduction to our world. Thank goodness you sent that letter, Mr. Potter, or you would have missed it entirely."

Harry's eyes lit up, "You mean to say I have not missed it?"

"No, Mr. Potter. It is happening just this afternoon." Her eyes seemed curious. Had he said too much? Of course he had, he shouldn't know what muggles were!

"If you would like to go, Mr. Potter, you are most welcome. I recommend we leave at once, so I can assist you in getting straight your money matter. Your parents left you a vault, Harry, I have the key to it. Excuse us, Mrs. Dursley."

"Harry will not be going with you!" His Aunt was shrieking.

"Take my arm, Mr. Potter, and I will show you your first bit of magic."

Harry quickly did so and they were whisked away by Apparition to Diagon Alley.

Professor McGonagal gave him a small, curious smile. "You did a remarkable job at maintaining your feet, Mr. Potter."

Oh, he'd forgotten: the first time around it had taken him a long time how to learn to Apparate without stumbling slightly on landing. He could think of nothing to say and only smiled back sheepishly.

"Before we get going, Mr. Potter, there is a matter I'm curious about. You are not nearly as excited, nervous, or skeptical as I knew you would be. That you knew how to return the letter is also of interest."

Harry thought fast, "Well, I've always been aware that magic had to exist - I just didn't know what form. Um, let me explain. Since I can remember, strange things have always happened around me. I'll be in one place, then suddenly the next. My hair grows back far too quickly after a bad haircut. Other things, too. It's obviously something supernatural. Lucky, I suppose, that there is a school to teach me about it. I'm very interested in magic."

The professor nodded, "And clearly knowing just what I meant by muggle-born gathering?"

Harry shrugged, "Context clues."

Satisfied, McGonagal led him to Gringotts.

"So my parents left a vault for me?" Harry asked, "It's so hard to believe."

"Yes, so that you could pay your tuition without relying directly on outside parties. There is a little more for school expenses and to start you off in the world just after school. All together, it is not a great sum of money, so I would advise you spend it wisely. Your parents were not wealthy, Harry."

Harry shook his head, "I didn't mean that. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon told me they were irresponsible. Died driving drunk."

Professor McGonagal was appalled, as he'd expected she would be.

After a moment, her expression resumed its calm. "If I would not tell you magic, I suppose they would not tell you that story." She frowned, dismayed, "Harry, when we are finished in the bank, remind me to speak to you about your parents. There are many things you should know, not the least of which is that they were very, very responsible."

Harry only nodded.

Unlike with Hagrid, Professor McGonagal was very quick and precise. She did not warn him about the distrustfulness and greediness of goblins, simply spoke as one would to any clerk. Business was rapid. They were not taken to the vault; instead the goblin brought them a small sack of galleons, which McGonagal explained was enough for the supplies he'd need to buy today and a little extra spending money, thinking he wasn't aware the meaning of the amount. Harry understood: with his school expenses, what was left over would not be enough to buy anything expensive: no room-sized trunks, no impenatrable dragon-hide armor, no long-distance communication device, nothing of the sort. He was all right with that, they should not be nessecary.

After that, his professor took him to a cafe, where she paid for a tea for herself and a pumpkin juice for Harry. Her expression turned rather serious when they sat down in at a corner table and even though Harry knew what story was coming, he still found himself drawn into the suspence. She told him a little about their years in school, what they were like before the dark subject. She told the story matter-of-fact, but her tone was very sad. Somehow the story felt much more tender and much less frightening from her than from Hagrid. She said the name of Lord Voldemort witout any qualms, but told him he must never say it, as to many people, it was very upsetting, a harsh reminder of the previous war.

In a somber mood, they walked toward the Leaky Cauldron, where they would meet with the other students. As they walked, Professor McGonagal regained her stiff-upper-lip attitude and Harry felt his stomach rolling with nerves and excitement at the thought of Hermione. How strange! He'd never been so nervous to see her before.

Her face was the first one he spotted in the light crowd and he found himself staring at her excited smile for longer than he should have. He was so elated to see her happy. The Hermione of old, only eager to learn, without any heartbreak. Her parents were with her, looking confused, but pleased.

Also in the group with their parents were Justin Finch-Fletchley and three students that for all his years in Hogwarts Harry didn't know. A small group.

Professor McGonagal introduced him to the others (he felt his heart flutter when he shook Hermione's hand). Not a one of them raised even an eyebrow at his name. This was Hermione's first trip to the wizarding world. She had yet to read Hogwarts, A History.

"Are you not with your parents today, Harry?" A girl's mother asked him.

"They're busy, I'm afraid." He awnsered easily.

Shopping in Diagon Alley with the group was much like sight-seeing. The muggles and muggle-borns pointed out almost everything they saw. It was for Harry a very fun experience. He had forgotten the wonders of magic. Far too long a time spend staring at expensive broomsticks with Ron, not enough on his own, appreciating everything.

Before anything else, they had gone to Gringotts and converted money. Next, cauldrons and other potion supplies, mundane supplies like parchment and quills, telescopes for astronomy, then uniform fittings.

The book shop was where the magic really happened. Apart from school textbooks, they were allowed to look for any books to read.

Almost subconsciously, Harry followed Hermione's heels. She looked like a child in a candy-shop and he couldn't help but share her joy. Harry had never been so reading-crazed as his best friend, but being with her inspired him to take a look.

What books would be interesting and useful? Hogwart's library was extensive, he didn't want to buy anything they probably had. He plucked up a copy of Simply Scholar: Spells for the Student, intriguiged only by the title.

Hermione's clear, cheerful voice so nearby surprised him. "Oh, that looks good! I think I'll get that too." She reached for another copy of the book on the shelf.

"Oh." Said Harry, "You could, but, you know, I really wouldn't mind sharing. Why should be buy two copies? When I finish reading it, I could lend it to you."

Hermione looked right into his eyes. Had he been too forward? "That's a great idea!"

Harry grinned maybe a little too wide in relief. "Great! Maybe we can look around together? We can get twice the reading material this way!"

Hermione was clearly very pleased with the idea. Together, they were like a whirlwind through the store, calling across aisles to compare titles, if the book sounded good. Hermione's parents looked happy to let her look around without them, each going to different parts of the store to investigate books. Professor McGonagal was too busy walking from student to student for questions to pay Harry much attention.

In the end, Harry and Hermione both held large stacks of books, Hermione already poking her nose into the one on top as they paid.

"We should compare addresses," She said, momentarily looking up, "I'm a fast reader, I'll send them to you when you're done."

With her address scrawled on a piece of parchment, Harry was happier than he'd been in a long while. They purchased wands next, Mr. Olivander being very discreet in the presence of so many people.

All that done, there was only one thing left to do.

"Professor, before we go, could we stop by the pet shop? I'd like to purchase an owl."

In the first moment entering the shop, Harry was afraid Hedwig wasn't in the shop yet. There were all sort of animals and birds in the small space, but he was able to spot her pure white feathers in the back. He wandered a bit, looking at the other owls so as not to seem precognizant, but knew exactly which owl he'd be purchasing.

Hermione looked curious. "Do you think an owl is a good purchase?"

Harry shrugged, trying to indicate that it varied, "I believe in the wizarding world it's good to have an owl or access to an owl, but for now at least, it isn't nessecary for us. I can send Hedwig to you without stamp money or anything. I... skimmed a bit of Hogwarts, A History in the bookshop, the school has mail owls for the students to use. I'm getting an owl as a pet, primarily - magical owls like these tend to be friendlier, more domesticated than ordinary owls, so she's a good companion. This summer I can send Hedwig to you without stamp money or anything - let me be the first to write. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is yes, but if you like cats, get a cat, or if you like dogs get a dog. I mean," Harry blushed, suddenly aware of Hermione's parents, "if your parents let you keep pets."

Mrs. Granger smiled at Harry's awkward courtesy. "We do, but Hermione's never shown much interest in animals before. Would you like a pet, Hermione?"

Hermione put her chin in her hand, taking on an expression of serious contemplation. Over such a question, in such an environment, it was rather comical. Harry bit his tongue so that he wouldn't laugh.

"I think I would. With a pet, I wouldn't be so lonely." She nodded and resumed her smile, but Harry frowned at what she'd said. Was Hermione lonely?

Hermione decided cats were her forte, as they were intelligent and personal creatures, and spent time looking around with Harry and her parents. She wasn't enthusiastic about cute kittens, or sleek black cats, or purring tabbies, but saw a large, ugly brown-orange cat and seemed to fall in love.

Harry was astounded. The cat was Crookshanks, the exact cat Hermione purchased years later in his original time.

While the Grangers paid, Harry spoke to one of the shop-keepers. "How long has that cat been here?" He asked.

"Eh. Round three years. No one wanted it because it was so ugly. Part Kneezle, though, I suspect. Not half, little less. Why?"

Harry didn't answer. He suddenly felt a bit quesy. He looked around the shop. Hedwig had been so hard to spot because the shop was so full. Conditions for the animals were very cramped. But surely they couldn't spend all their time in cramped cages? Even through his fur, Crookshanks was clearly healthy. Maybe the animals were taken out to exercise, only put in the shop during hours so people could see them all at once. He wasn't sure. For now, the group was heading home.

The other families loaded into cars they'd parked near the pub and waved goodbye to Harry and Professor McGonagal. Harry took her arm and she apparated him to Privet Drive.

"Will you be all right with those materials, Mr. Potter? The Dursley's will not take them from you or damage them? If you like, I could keep hold of your things until the start of school. Teachers also must take the train to get to Hogwarts, I could give them to you there."

That was a good idea. "Thank you. I appreciate that. Er, I think I'll hide the books for now. I want to read them, plus one of the other students and I are going to exchange books as we finish them."

Professor McGonagal actually laughed. "I had figured you would be a Gryffindor, like your parents were, but I see now you are almost certain to be a Ravenclaw, Mr. Potter. All right, good luck with your reading. I will meet you on Platform 9 3/4."

She gave him a nod and apparated away.

Even if he wasn't sure of his owl's character, a magic owl is bound to its owner. She wouldn't run away, so Harry set her free out of her cage to fly around the neighborhood.

"Meet me back here tomorrow, girl." He said to the owl. She seemed to understand.

Once back in the house, Harry went directly to his cupboard, hiding from his family. Hermione had underspoke: she was far more than 'fast' at reading. He'd have to start immediately so she'd have something to read tomorrow!

Quick author note, forgive me! Just wanted to say I'd love edits or advice. Please tell me if you see anything wrong in my story, want to see the story go in a specific direction, anything. I'm using fanfiction as entertaining writing practice, so criticism is always welcome. Thank you for reading so far!


	3. Chapter 3: The Train

It took Harry a few days to read through Spells for the Student. He got the feeling it was the sort of book you were meant to keep on hand to look things up in, but he wrapped it in twine to send to Hermione anyway.

He could just send it off like that. There was no reason to write her a letter as well, or if he did write her a letter, to make it any more than 'here's that book! -harry'. He was consciously aware of this, but he wrote her a big letter all the same.

He didn't think too much as he wrote, letting the pen think for itself.

Hermione,

Hi there! I've finished a book, so I'm sending it to you right away. I think it seems very useful, so we should take it to school with us. Hogwarts has a massive library, but not much in the way of self-help books or how-to books or anything personal - it's a research library, for the most part. I guess that's to be expected in a school. In my old school, the library had lots of fiction. I learned to read from those books. The library was about the only part of the school I liked. I'm not a big reader like you are, but it felt very safe there.

If you don't mind me asking, what was your old school like? Did you have a lot of friends? I never did. What's your family like? Because I hate mine. It's hard to tell what a normal family is like. I don't have a lot of experience outside of Privet Drive and my elementary. I guess it's not too big a deal now, I get to leave the place all school year, but I still wonder.

Are you taking any muggle items to school with you? Aside from a hairbrush and that sort of thing. They say electronics fry there. I don't have any, but it's something to keep in mind. I think a pen would be a good thing to have. Quills seem awfully hard to write with. Still, we'd only have it for notes, I'm sure they wouldn't let us turn in homework and do tests in pen.

How is Crookshanks fairing? He's really big, but still looks like a mouser to me. The man in the shop happened to mention the cat was probably part Kneazle. I know a Kneazle is a kind of magic creature, but I don't know exactly what. Something capable of breeding with cats, something safe enough to sell to minors as a pet, something useful enough to breed in the first place. Let me know if you figure it out!

I'm sorry I made this letter so long. I just started writing and sort of lost track. Listen, you don't have to answer any of my stupid questions if you don't want to. To be honest, I wouldn't be mad at you if you didn't reply or didn't read my letter at all. I'm just a little lonely and it would be nice to have a pen-pal over the summer. I really like you when we met in Diagon Alley. You were smart and fun and seemed like a good friend.

Anyway, if you don't write back, I'll see you at Platform 9 3/4. Have a happy rest of the summer, Hermione!

-Harry

Before he allowed himself to worry, Harry tucked the letter in the twine-wrapped parcel and told Hedwig Hermione's address. He had five more books to read while waiting for her return letter.

Things were going surprisinly well in Privet Drive. Hedwig spent all her time outdoors, usually roosting in the park trees. She looked very healthy on a diet of the park rodents, but Harry still brought her tidbits to make sure she was getting enough food. The Dursleys had yet to become aware of her presence or that of Harry's books. In fact, they for the most part ignored him as Harry steadfastedly avoided them. He completed his regular chores never-the-less and spent spare time reading.

Hermione's letter returned the very same day he send his, Hedwig weighed down with two books. There was an envelope tied to the front of the books, Harry untangled it rapidly. He felt the paper in his fingers for a moment, like a high schooler measuring a college acceptance letter, then dove in.

Dear Harry,

I think that's a great idea. We're each allowed a full trunk worth of things, so it should be easy to fit not just this one, but all our more useful books inside. I feel as muggle-borns we are at a distinct disadvantage, so we'll have to work hard and use every trick to keep up with the others. The more books, the merrier, I think.

I absolutely loved my old school, but that's because I loved to learn. I've never had friends either. Dad says the other girls are intimidated by me. He's probably a little right, but I'm sure there's more to it than that. Relationships are very complicated. Sometimes I think I'd rather just read and not bother, that's likely part of my problem. My family is pretty small: just Mum and Dad and I. We have an uncle, father's side, who visits sometimes, but I don't know him very well. Mum and Dad are also big readers like me. They're dentists and met through their work. They have their own practise here, but they don't expect me to take it over. My parents are great that way. They're all right with me doing whatever I want for a living, so long as it makes me happy. I'm not sure there's a such thing as a normal family anyway.

I think I'll only take the basics, as far as muggle items go. I've been reading a lot, not just our books. In the Wizarding World, almost everything we do has a magical equivalent. They don't need electric lighting, they use a spells to keep the school lit. Medicine, vitamins, even shampoo can be replaced by potions. When they cook, they use magic. When they garden, they use magic. It's less like we're just learning new things, more like we're meeting a whole new world.

The pen idea is a very good one. Old-fashioned fountain pens write in a style that looks just like quills. They even use the same ink we'd use. I've talked to my father about it, he's given me a couple extra pens he had laying around. One of them is for you. If you'd like it.

Crookshanks is a mouser and he's the best cat ever! He doesn't bother me when I'm reading, just sits quietly on my lap or on a chair nearby, but if I'm not doing anything he's up for cuddles. He is very heavy, so I can't easily carry him about, but he's smart. He knows if I want him to come with me to somewhere. He also gets up to his own business around the house and the neighborhood. He does seem very intelligent. I've looked up Kneazles. They seem to be most like unusually intelligent cats, but with an uncanny ability to tell when someone is lying and to spot unsavory characters. Crookshanks is clearly only a small part Kneazle, so these abilities won't be very strong in him. That's fine with me, I like him for the company. How is Hedwig doing? You'd said magical owls were different from mundane owls. Does she cuddle with you like a cat would? I find it difficult to imagine.

Harry, I must say, I am rather perturbed you thought I would not read your letter. Of course I would reply! And I thought you were wonderful too. I was expecting Hogwarts to be a lot like my old school. I thought I wouldn't have any friends. You don't think that's too forward of me, do you? That we're friends?

your new penpal,

Hermione

Harry actually shook a little reading Hermione's letter. It was a good feeling, to be children again, witout any worry of war. And he loved Hermione, really loved her. He blushed at himself, not in a romantic way, of course. She was in love with Ron. Or would be, eventually.

They started writing letter to each other in rapid fashion, not even waiting until a book was finished. Hedwig was almost always flying between them, but still growing fat. Harry suspected Hermione of giving his owl treats when she delivered letters. The thought made him smile.

Time passed that way, September 1st sneaking up on them so that the date surprised Harry. He would not lower himself to asking a ride from his uncle, but lowering himself to stealing cab fare was just fine. He packed all his things into his trunk, tucked Hedwig into her cage, and pinned a note to his door explained he had left for school and would return the next summer.

This time around, he knew exactly how to get onto the Platform. It had been one of the things Professor McGonagal had explained to the muggle-borns and their parents. He did not meet the Weasley family on his way. He only shrugged at that. There was plenty of time to befriend Ron later.

The first thing he spotted on the platform, before the shine of the gold trimming on the train, the platinum blond hair of a Malfoy, or anything else eye-catching was the dull brown hair of Hermione Granger. He began walking toward her, smiling widely, almost trance-like. She was speaking with her parents, but spotted him, broke out in a wide grin and jumped forward to hug him.

It was the most natural thing in the world. Harry dropped his things and put his arms around her, holding her tightly, burying his face in her hair. The embrace didn't last long, but felt as though it did. Harry spotted an amused glint in Mrs. Granger's eye and an elated one in Mr. Granger's.

"I'm glad we both got here early." Said Hermione, "We'll be able to find an empty compartment and do some reading on the way."

Despite his most steadfast attempts, Harry had been unable to finish reading all the books they had between them. It didn't help that Hermione kept purchasing more. They had decided to take nearly every magical book with them. Carrying them would only be trouble twice: to Hogwarts, then back.

Dan Granger stepped forward, presenting his hand as one would to an adult. Harry took it.

"So you're our daughter's pen pal. Good to meet you, Harry." Mr. Granger said.

Mrs. Granger smirked at her husband, "We've already met him, dear, he was one of the muggle-borns."

Mr. Granger chuckled and ruffled his own hair. "Sorry about that, then, I can be so forgetful."

Harry laughed to indicate he wasn't offended.

"Well," Mrs. Granger said, "We've already said our goodbyes. You two had best get on the train. You don't want to be late and in a rush."

"Actually, I've got to meet with Professor McGongal first. You go ahead, Hermione, I'll be right behind."

Hermione gave each of her parents one more hug, looking far too excited to be melancholy at goodbyes. Harry found the Professor, who presented him with a single cloth bag, then hurried aboard after Hermione.

"Poor Hedwig," Said Hermione, as they hoisted their trunks in the space above them, "She'll have to spend the entire train ride cooped up in here."

Harry nodded, "I know, but I don't want to let her out. I don't think she'd be able to keep up with the train. Though, on the other hand, owls have a great sense of direction."

Harry spoke directly to his owl, "Did you think you'd be able to follow the tracks to the school, then find the owl roostery?"

Hedwig gave an offended hoot. Of course she'd be able to find the owl roostery. Don't be stupid.

Harry smiled and opened up the window for her. She left immediately, not even waiting for the train to take off. Crookshanks was released from his carrier, but seemed content to doze on the seat next to Hermione.

"He might want to explore the train later. Do you think that's okay?" Hermione asked.

"Well, Hogwarts, A History says cats and other animals are free to roam the castle and grounds and the train is owned my the school directly. I think it's fine."

Hermione nodded, but frowned. "Um, Harry, about that book. In it... I read about you. Harry Potter, and you have the scar from the story. I wan't really sure how to ask in the letter, but... you are _the_ Harry Potter, aren't you?"

Harry simply nodded. "Yes. When my parents were killed, they sent me to live with my relatives. I guess they expected my aunt and uncle would teach about magic, Aunt Petunia knowing about it from her sister, but they didn't."

Hermione looked guilty, "When I got to that part of the book I was so happy and excited. Sort of 'wow, Harry's in a book', but then, after I read it, I was really sad. It wasn't like reading about a historical figure, because I knew you. It was very sad."

"Hermione," Harry said, maybe even a little sharply, "I don't want you to think differenly of me. That's why I didn't tell you, even though I knew you would read that book. Because, honestly, whatever happened clearly had little to do with me. I don't even remember any of it. Please, I want you to see me as Harry."

Hermione looked up. She smiled, "I do."

When the train started moving, they both pulled out a book to read and stayed silent. That didn't last very long. Hermione would point out something interesting or Harry would ask for help understanding a concept and soon enough they abandoned the sepatate reading and sat together, on the same side of the compartment, one book across their laps. Hermione was a far faster reader, but willing to wait for Harry to catch up. They paused at the end of every passage to talk about what they were reading. For Hermione, it must have far slower than what she was used to, but for Harry, it was a much faster reading process. He didn't have to go over something more than once to get it to stick in his head, Hermione was happy to explain what she easily understood.

They both started giggling when Harry mispronounced a word, then Crookshanks, who had been politely sleeping, stepped over Hermione's legs and sat directly on top of the book. That set them both giggling like mad. Harry was laughing so hard he found it difficult to breath. Nothing more than reading and a cat and he was having the time of his life.

When the treat cart rolled by, Harry bought himself and Hermione pumpkin juices and pumpkin pasties, refusing to allow her to pay, which also made her laugh.

Time crept up on them, before they knew it Hogwarts was on the horizon.

"We have to change!" Hermione shrilled, distressed that she might be late. She quickly shooed both Harry and her cat out into the corridor. Harry and the cat shared a smirk before she finished dressing, then it was her turn outside.

They were completely ready to step off the train when the time arrived, having even taken down their luggage. It was late and the castle loomed over them, a simple silohoutte in the darkness.

"The first years get to ride boats." Harry whispered, "Are you excited?"

"About everything." Hermione whispered back.


	4. Chapter 4: The Sorting

Luggage was taken for them, so all they needed to do was follow Hagrid to the boats. Three to a boat. Harry and Hermione got in one and waited. One boy appeared to be lagging behind everyone else, a boy Harry recognized. Poor Neville didn't seem able to find a boat and was too shy to butt into one of the half-taken ones.

"Neville!" Harry cried out. "You can sit with us!"

Oh no. Oh no. He knew his mistake immediately. He looked to Hermione, she was quizzical. He looked to Neville, he was quizzical as he climbed inside.

"Do I know -" Neville started to ask.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" Harry interrupted. There was silence for a moment. He was very awkward.

"Well, I think Ravenclaw." Said Hermione. "I'm a good study, we both are. We'd probably fit in, Harry."

Harry was momentarily distracted from his panic. "Ravenclaw?" Why Ravenclaw? She'd been certain of Gryffindor last time around. How had he changed anything?

She nodded happily, "Yes, we'll probably be Ravenclaws. I'm not too worried about it."

"I'm certain to be a Hufflepuff." Neville said, sounding Eeyore-like in unhappiness.

"Why are you so sad about it?" Asked Hermione. "What's wrong with Hufflepuff?"

"Oh, well, they all say that's the house for losers. If you don't fit in anywhere else, they just put you in Hufflepuff. I'm not brave, smart, or cunning. It has to be Hufflepuff for me."

"That's not true," Hermione said, indignant. "I read all about the houses. Hufflepuff is about hard work, patience, loyalty, and fair play. Amlia Andershed, who wrote On Wizard Tradition, said that Hufflepuff was the most noble and honorable of the houses. Gryffindor is always seen as the heros, but that's because they're fighters. When everyone works together, the Ravenclaws decide how to fight, Slytherins when to fight, but Hufflepuffs decide who. That's what my book says, anyway."

"I agree with her," Said Harry, "Hufflepuff is a great house and the people there are really friendly. Maybe they do accept people who don't fit in anywhere else, but that's a good thing, I think. That way everyone has a friend. Hufflepuffs work together better than any of the other houses. And I think they're happier than the others too. I maybe won't be sorted there, but I'd like to be in Hufflepuff just as much as Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Hufflepuff would be great for you, Neville, great for anyone, but especially you."

Neville bit his lip thinking about it. "I still don't know. I can't pick where I'm sorted anyway, so it doesn't matter, but I guess if I am put in Hufflepuff, it wouldn't be so bad."

"Being yourself is what's most important." Harry said, knowing just how much one could pick where they were sorted.

"By the way, where did you learn -"

"I can't wait for the first day, I'm just so excited. Magic is wonderful, isn't it?" Harry was sweating.

"Oh, me too!" Said Hermione.

"Um. Yes." Said Neville, slightly confused by Harry's rapid and awkward subject change. "Are you too Muggle-borns?"

Hermione shot Harry a quick glance. She wouldn't answer for him. She knew Harry was not technically muggle-born.

"Muggle-raised, yes." Harry said. "Classes tomorrow will be the first time we can practise magic."

"I think there's only five of us in our year. Being muggle-raised is pretty rare, isn't it?" Hermione said, flowing into his line of thinking naturally.

"Yeah, absolutely. I've never met a muggle-born in my life." Neville smiled, "You two seem pretty normal."

Harry and Hermione laughed. The boat ride was fairly quick with self-rowing oars, so they were soon at the castle.

Draco made no anouncement as they waited. The butterfly effect, Harry supposed. Something he had done differently had caused changes he didn't anticiate.

Soon, they were called into the Great Hall. There were so many people around. So many faces he knew had died. It was wonderful to see everyone again.

Professor McGonagal called out names in order, just as she had before. Ron was a Gryffindor. Hermione, surprisingly, a Ravenclaw and Neville a Hufflepuff. Now Harry had a decision to make. He hadn't accounted for Hermione changing houses. Would he stick with his house or beg the hat Ravenclaw?

He knew before the fabric touched his head.

_"Ravenclaw." _He thought to it deliberately.

"So sure, Mr. Potter? Given what's here in your head, I would expect something very different."

"Ravenclaw. I want to be with my friend."

"You think house lines could be powerful enough to separate you from her? Stupid boy. Don't you know what you do in other houses? The greatness you could achieve?"

"I will achieve greatness in Ravenclaw."

"You are clever enough for it. I'll give you that. But you are also deceptive. Even just in this life-time, you've lied so many times with ease. Wouldn't Slytherin fit you better?"

Harry was surprised. He had expected the hat to argue for Gryffindor, if any house.

_"No," _He thought, _"I am not a Slytherin. I am a Ravenclaw. I will be in Ravenclaw with Hermione." _

_"So be it," _Answered the Hat. "RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaw table cheered loudly. Harry got up, wide smile on his face. Hermione had saved a seat for him and he happily sat down next to her.

After the formalities of the speech and song, the feast appeared on the plates and they dug in. Harry hadn't had good food all summer, all his life thus far really, so he ate ravenously.

"Ew!" Giggled Hermione, "Don't stuff your face. That's gross!"

Harry was reminded of Ron, who ate in that fashion constantly. Befriending him from a different house, when they had not already met, would be difficult. But if the Hat said house lines wouldn't separate him from Hermione, surely they wouldn't separate him from Ron either. He pushed the boy from his mind, a feat he found surprisingly easy. It was fun to chat with Hermione and their new housemates.

The first years in Ravenclaw were Terry Boot, Mandy Brocklehurst, Michael Corner, Stephen Cornfoot, Kevin Entwhistle, Anthony Goldstein, Sue Li, Morag McDougal, Padma Patil, and Lisa Turpin. Of them, Harry had only really known Padma, due to knowing her sister, Parvati. Morag had been pulled second year due to the Chamber of Secrets incident. Most of them had been part of Dumbledore's Army, an activity he was not planning to start again.

When the feast ended, they followed the Ravenclaw prefect back to their tower. After explaining the knocker and allowing a first-year to guess the answer to its question, he showed them inside. Harry had seen Ravenclaw Tower before, but Hermione was amazed. He found himself caught up in the amazement with her, just seeing her expressions was enough to make him want to share them with her.

Girls and boys had separate rooming, so he had to say goodbye.

Sharing his dormitory were boys Terry, Michael, and Anthony. Harry re-introduced himself to them, intending to be friends, then started unpacking his things. After class tomorrow, he would visit Hedwig and make sure she was getting along okay, then begin his investigation of the Philosopher's Stone and Professor Quirrel.


	5. Chapter 5: The Rejection

Ravenclaws and Gryffindors had different class schedules. Where the Gryffindors had often been paired with Slytherins, most Ravenclaw classes were with the Hufflepuffs. Harry was both relieved and dismayed: he had classes with Neville, but very few with Ron. Furthermore, Ron already seemed to be making close friends with Dean and Seamus. If he wanted to stay friends, he'd have to be very purposeful.

First class for Ravenclaws was Charms, shared with Hufflepuffs. He sat with Hermione and Neville. He was surprised at how orderly and calm the classroom was. Everyone was paying attention. He'd never been in a classroom without Gryffindors.

Then Transfiguration, which was the same. Finally, History of Magic with everyone, including the Gryffindors. Harry made special effort to sit right next to Ron, with Hermione on his other side. Dean, Seamus, and Neville were all nearby. Even Ravenclaws tended to doze and chat in History, since the lessons were repetitive and uninteresting and the teacher never chastized anyone for not paying attention.

Harry tried to make whispered conversation. "I'm muggle-raised, so I've certainly never had a ghost for a teacher. Far less interesting than I thought it would be."

Ron paid him no attention at all. He was dismayed. Hermione suddenly poked his side. He looked at her sheepishly, expecting her to be angry he wasn't paying attention in class. Instead, her expression was curious. He leaned over to hear what she had to say.

Hermione also leaned, so that her face was right against his ear. She cupped her hands around her mouth to help muffle the noise and spoke in the quietest whisper.

"Do you like that boy?" She asked.

Harry bolted straight up immediately. "No!" He whispered back. Hermione only giggled quietly. She clearly didn't believe him.

He copied her earlier movements, "I don't, Hermione! I'm straight, okay! And that is certainly not my type!"

They exchanged ears, Hermione whispering, "Okay, okay. You just seem to be staring at him a lot. Talking about our crushes is a thing friends do, isn't it?"

She smiled at him to show that she was joking, lighthearted.

Harry smiled back, "Do you have a crush on anyone in the room?" He whispered to her, laughing himself.

She giggled, but didn't speak.

"Would you two stop that?" Ron said out loud, startling them. "I'm trying to sleep over here."

"O-oh." Said Harry, "Sorry, I just thought - "

"Oh, shut it book-worm," Seamus said. "Nobody cares."

Harry was utterly appalled. Just because he was in Ravenclaw? He found himself frowning, feeling rejected, then felt a hand on his back. He turned to see Neville, who only shrugged. Harry recognized the gesture. It was a warm feeling having the support of your friends. He spent the rest of the period reading his History text with Hermione.

All day, Harry thought about the Ron situation. He'd always had Ron as a friend, never known the other boy when he didn't have Harry's back. Only that time in fourth year. He bit his tongue, feeling bitter. All friends had fights. He shouldn't still feel upset about that. He shouldn't, but he did.

Ron had become a real ass when he and Harry weren't on the same side.

In this mood, Harry decided to prioritize. Voldemort could come later. He was killing Pettigrew first.

Why not now? It had to happen eventually.

Quick author note (forgive me!): I've been writing shorter chapters, like the one above, so that I can get reviews on the material and see what to do better on next time, with the side effect of more frequent updates. But from what I've read online, long, infrequent chapters are more popular. If it's not trouble to you, I'd like to know what you think I should do. Just putting your opinion with your review would mean the world to me. But if you don't feel like it, don't worry. I don't mind at all. I just want to do my best writing! Thank you for reading so far!


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